Memories of Time Past
by crazyasafox
Summary: Updated again! Carrion has a plans for the triumph of night over day, but what happens when a girl inturrups his plans? Can he use her for his plans or will Mater Motley's plans get in the way? Plz read and review. Enjoy!
1. The Beginning

"The _Wormwood _glides on waves of death,

Sudden silence, take one last breath

Strange sails on winds of danger

To this ship, death is no stranger"

The _Wormwood_ sailed smoothly out of her midnight port like a panther stalking its prey-smooth and deadly. On her bow stood Christopher Carrion his gloved hands resting on one of the _Wormwood_'s ghastly wooden creatures perched on the railing. His head, which many thought was frail, considered with the sheer volume of the rest of him was also the most fearsome. Skeleton lips with cruel, intense eyes were just a few of his ghastly features. A collar with nightmares swarmed around his head, twisting and twirling as deathly thoughts soothed their tortured being. He was fear and death personified. A smile crossed his thin lips as he imagined the pain and bloodshed he would be causing in just an hour or two. Word had it that the night island of Jibarish was planning a rebellion against the prince. You were either with Midnight or against it. If you were against it you shall be crushed-viciously. Jibarish was against Midnight, and he had every intention of crushing it. If it was with Midnight, too bad; Carrion would use it as an example to enforce the rest of the night isles staunchest support. The Carrion house would soon need it.

Staring off over the horizon Carrion envisioned his dream. Absolute Midnight, absolute darkness, and absolute power. However, Carrion was no fool and knew that something would have to be done about his grandmother, Mater Motely. She was no fool either and in the past, duel leadership had not worked so well with the Carrions. No, he would have to outsmart her before she outsmarted him. But that was for another time. Right now the Dark Prince focused on what was at hand right now.

However, it wouldn't be long until Mater Motely would find out about his little escapade and confront him about it. Not caring, Carrion toyed with the nightmare's in his collar, _tonight is going to be fun_ he thought to himself. He closed his eyes and told the limp nightmares _tonight you will to feast. _

"Skeleton lips

With cruel and cold eyes

This is what you'll see before your demise

Carrion came out to play

Poor you, for it shall end in your decay

Carrion came out to play, and you shall see,

Oh how cruel his wicked, rotted soul can really be"

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"The Sea

Is where I'll be

On a warm, breezy day

Ah, the cold and refreshing sea spray

I could sit here all day"

"Marina! You shouldn't lean so close to the railing its dark and you might fall in," said my mother, Iyeta. I sighed. My mother was always worrying. Ever since my father had lost 4 toes and an eye playing with baby dragon trying to prove that it wasn't as dangerous as it looked; needless to say, he was wrong.

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Back long ago (to me anyway) my father was a handsome daredevil, my mother the daughter of a prestigious family. Needless to say, my mother was charmed by my father's free willing spirit. My mother was always inside the house, always being pampered. So after meeting my father, she began to develop a daredevil streak within her.

One day while they were on the island of Black Egg when they discovered a dragon egg. My uncle, Benjo, was throwing a birthday party for his wife, Melinda. After my parents left the party, they discovered the egg. Senses dulled by the alcohol, my father began to play with it-but then the egg hatched.

My mother told him to run away; so of course he did the opposite. He gave it a kick. An another, and another ignoring my mother's laments. _Wham_ a powerful tail blow to the eye took out one of my father's eyes. My mother and father were never the same after that.

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"Listen to your mother," he said. So I sat down on the warm planks to finish up my dress I was sewing. It was a beautiful sea green with small shells at the hem to represent the sea. We were sailing on the seas near the night island of Jibarish with my best friends Lizire and Torlem. However, selling boats and shells like my parents was not the life I envisioned for myself, no, I wanted fame, fortune and adventure.

In fact my friends and I were quite the diversified travelers. We had traveled to at least all of the islands except for Gorgossium and the 25th hour; picking up many different languages as we went by. My parent's ship, _The Nocaru_ was a small and sturdy vessel. I spent many of my years singing and dancing on her planks with my friends Torlem and Lizire. Torlem and Lizier's parents were patients in Orlando's Cap but now have a home on Idjit. Although we aren't related by blood, we're as close as sisters.

Torlem is sort of the bossy one and wasn't afraid to speak her mind. We had gotten into many an argument over the stupidest things.

I remember one of the worst arguments we had. It was over getting the top bunk in the bedroom in this fancy hotel.

"You always get the top bunk," she said. I laughed and shrugged it off.

"So?" I replied

"So? You always get the top bunk. Maybe you should be more selfless and let me or Lizire get it one day," she retorted.

"Are you calling me selfish?"

"You shouldn't mind, because it's true."

"_You're _the selfish one"

"Oh please, you wish. Honestly, I've done just about everything for you. Being your best friend, your supporter…Do you think just because you have parents and I don't your better than me?"

And on and on the argument went until Lizire broke us up. She got the top bunk, Torlem the bottom and I the floor. We had reconciled since then and had become the best of friends.

Lizire is "the kind one". She was always there when you needed her. But sometimes her kindness got the best of her. We had been walking down the streets of Hoobarkros. When she saw an old beggar on the streets, he asked for a little money and she gave it to him. On our way back, the same beggar approached us and jumped us. I can still hear one of the snickering "You're right, she did have money!" to some of his pirate friends.

And me? I suppose I'm the wild one. You know the type; love to have fun, sing, dance, ect. You'd be surprised how many people take my being "dizzy" as stupidity. I savor the expression on people's faces after I tell them the answer a difficult question with ease. Or break into a conversation about Astrophysics with them.

Smiling as I remembered the warm, sunny days and nights we had spent on this little vessel. Spear fishing, sun bathing, and giggling as my parents told stories of days long past. Soon _The Nocaru _would be mine and I would be able to sail the seas as I pleased.

I stood up for I could see something on the horizon, a ship it looked like. Walking toward the railing once more, my dress swinging rhythmically with my steps. Ignoring my parent's laments I continued onward until I could walk no further. Suddenly a chill came over the ship and everyone was silent.

The great ship was approaching at a terrifying speed. It wasn't long until the figure on the bow of the ship was visible.

"It's….," said Torlem unable to finish her sentence.

"Christopher Carrion," finished Lizire.

"I can't be…," replied Torlem

"Ah, but it is," I said

That all they could handle, for as soon as our brief conversation was done, they bolted in the cabin screaming. I tried to shush them on their way to the cabin, but it was too late. We had been heard and we had been seen.

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Carrion turned his head toward a small boat to his left. He had heard screams and where there are screams there is fear. His nightmares writhed and squirmed in morbid anticipation. He turned in time to see the door to the cabin slam as two girls ran inside. However, there was someone still on the deck as if unmoved by his presence.

The girl held a needle and thread in her hand, making it obvious that she was a seamstress. A very talented one at that, the dress she wore swayed with her as the gentle waves of the Isabella rocked the boat she was standing on. She also had dark skin, hair and large eyes, she was of the day island-the enemies; and so was one of her friends judging from the tanned arm he had seen slamming the door. The girl's large brown eyes caught his grey ones. He heard someone yell her name in the distance. He turned his head and continued to stare out on the sea.

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There he was. I was staring into the eyes of every fear I had ever feared. Every tale I was too afraid to believe. Every into the eyes of death. Personified and approaching. I heard my friends scream and run away and dimly knew that I should do the same. Yet I continued to look like a animal being seduced by a viper. Distantly, I heard my name being called, but the power and presence of Christopher Carrion was too great to pull me away. He had the most saturnine eyes I had ever seen. Dark, with deadly intelligence and cat-like pupils that showed no emotion and probably hadn't for a very long time. With the curiosity like watching a horrific accident, I continued to stare.

"MARINA" my mother shrieked as she pulled me into the cabin. Suddenly I felt weak, drained. My parents hugged and berated me for my foolishness but I didn't care; I had just stared into the eyes of Christopher Carrion-and lived. I sat down on the floor with my friends relieved to still be alive. _They're looking like me as if I had just seen a monster _I thought to myself. Then again, I had.

"Why did you stay out so long?" asked Torlem. She was of the same Island as me, Spake, and had tanned skin, brown hair and light brown eyes.

"Are you ok? Why did you stay out so long? Was it really him?" asked Lizire. She was of Yebba Dim Day with light skin, hair, and eyes

"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied shakily. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths. It would be foolish to try and forget what I just saw. Why bother? I knew, like one knows a love one is dead, that his image would stay with me forever.

"Marina, what were you thinking? You could've been-" my father's sentence was cut off as a crash echoed throughout the cabin. The hull of the _Wormwood_ tore its way though our seasoned vessel's hull and water came rushing in, eager to take its next victims.


	2. A New Seamstress

_Under the water,_

_So cold and blue, _

_Under the water, _

_I now bid you adieu,_

_Under the water,_

_I'm now cold enough to feel you_

The _Wormwood_ tore it's way though our ship's haul, blue fingers grabbing at us. Screams were muffled by the roar of water; and for once in a very long time, I had no idea of what to do. _We're going to die_ I thought. Looking toward my left and right, I saw no one. Suddenly, I felt as if my heart was beating in my throat and I could barley think freely. Again I looked over to the left and the right and at last saw my parents, Lizire, and Torlem swimming toward the surface. Funny, I didn't even know how long I was under water. As soon as I surfaced, I released the breath I didn't know I was even holding and gulped in as much air as I could. If you looked toward the horizon, you could make out the outline of the _Wormwood_, sailing fast toward its destination.

"What do we do now?" asked Lizire. Her question was answered by silence and the gentle lapping of waves. Finally, I answered.

"The driftwood. The _Wormwood_ tore through half of the ship leaving large clusters of wood floating around. If you'll look around, we can use some rope to fashion a deck, and then we pray. Hopefully the Isabella will take us where we want to go."

"Well? What are we waiting for? If we don't want to become fish food we better hurry up!" said Torlem. But it was already too late. Dark shapes were starting to swarm around us below.

_Wham_ the first fish struck our skimpy raft. The raft shook with tremendous force. A frenzy of fins and scales were swarming around us. These fish, Johaha didn't particularly like human, but at least they tasted good; the problem with these fish was that they took large bites out of things before they became uninterested. Judging by the fins, they were small fish, but a big problem.

_Wham, Thwack._ The fish were becoming more anxious now. The tethers of the rope holding the two pieces of raft we were floating on.

"Mom!" I screamed. My parents were floating farther and farther away. Blinded by panic, I fell in. Surrounded by a flurry of metallic silver and grey I was in danger. I saw Liz climbing out of the raft, and climbed on top of the nearest piece of wood. I was wounded, but alive.

"Oh my god," said Torlem. That's when the pain hit. I was badly bruised and scratched; the scales of the fish left bloody gouges on my arms and legs. We were floating farther and farther away from another. I was able to see that Lizire was not as badly hurt as I, no where near it.

"I shall meet you at our house!" I shouted. I could only pray that they heard me.

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When my sorry excuse for a raft reached the shore, I almost wished it had not. For I had landed on the island of Gorgossium; irony, gotta love it. However, I wasn't in the best of shape, I was loosing blood and becoming lightheaded.

I knew there was no escaping. It was rumored giant lice the size of three people roamed the land and that there was a garden of every since poisonous plant ever as well as a forest of gallows where the ravens sang their eerie songs. This was not good. Not good at all. And of course as our luck would have it, it was starting to get cold.

I tried to think of something, _Anything_ that would get me off this infernal island. I was trapped on a deadly island with evil people and it was getting colder and colder.

"Could things get any worse?" I moaned.

"Of course they can, they always can," said a voice from behind me.

There was a boy of roughly his teens standing behind me. Now, you have to understand that I have seen a lot of different people during my travels, but nothing quite like him. He had molted greenish scales that seemed to pulse and change back from scale to skin and back over and over again. Not to say he was ugly, no he was quite handsome really, but you couldn't really get a decent look at his face because you were always staring at his scales. They were actually sort of handsome in a mutated, weird way. His hair was curly and black and covered most of his forehead and eyes.

What's your name?" I asked.

"My name's Letheo. Not that is should concern you,"he said

Where had I heard that name before? Letheo…it sounded so familiar….

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_Poor little stitchling,_

_From the noose you shall swing,_

_Mud oozing from your seams,_

_The ravens shall dance to your screams._

Kime wasn't the smartest or most useful of mater Motely's gruesome creations. This is why when word had it that a message had to be sent to Carrion, Kime was picked. He was often ridiculed for his stupidity, for Mater Motely didn't do much for him in the brains department. His mismatched skin of green, brown, and colors that don't even have a name seemed to sag when he had been chosen to deliver the message. Kime was at least smart enough to figure out that: the message was not a good one and his chance for surviving intact or alive was not so great.

"What do you mean my grandmother _forbids_ me?" hissed Christopher Carrion to the stitching who had been unlucky enough to give the Dark Lord bad news.

"She just told me to tell you, uh, that, uh, um, well that you can't just go out and ravage an island-" the stitching was cut off short.

"HOW DARE SHE FORBID _ME_!" Carrion roared. The stitching, Kime bent his knees and covered his head.

"Look at me!" said Carrion. The stitching raised his eyes. Barley.

"Do you realize who you are talking to? Is there anything else that my grandmother would like to inform me of?" he demanded. Kime nodded his head. A few moments passed by.

"WELL AREN'T YOU GOING TO TELL ME?" snarled Carrion.

"Oh yes," Kime said. He took a big breath, it might be his last, "Your grandmother has also informed me that 'if you are to continue on your escapades' she will take away your….seamstresses. She also said that she has spies everywhere and it is advisable not to do anything rash for she will be watching," he finished.

Carrion's rage first started deep within him rising and clawing its way outwards. He bounded toward the poor stitching and tossed Kime across the room with what seemed like little or no effort. Kime hit the wall, hard. Rubbing his jaw, Kime gingerly raised himself into a sitting position. Carrion's metal gloves hurt far more than one would think.

Kime looked into Carrion's eyes. Eyes of hate and loathing; eyes that knew no mercy; eyes that had been tortured. There was something about the presence of a Carrion, Christopher particularly, that told you that you were in the presence great power. No, you do not want to mess with any Carrion.

"Tell my precious grandmother this. I shall find a seamstress of my own and no matter what she says; any island that opposes midnight will be crushed. You may leave now," said Carrion. The stitching stumbled out of the room without a single look back, glad to still be in one piece.

Carrion sat down in his study. It was large and filled with all sorts tales of the ghastly and gruesome. Fleshless vultures sat at the top of massive bookcases watching the scenes below them with white, blank eyes. There was the matter of a seamstress. In order to be as fearful as possible, he had to not only be, but look the part. It would take a talented seamstress to satisfy his extravagant and meticulous ideas. But that was to worry about later. Carrion knew his grandmother was both dangerous and smart, and he would have to make sure he would be smarter.

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_Letheo!_ _Carrion's assassin!_ I thought to myself. I had condemned myself to a nightmare of epic proportions. Letheo caught me and dragged me from the water. I knew I couldn't win this one. Grabbing a stick as he grabbed for me, I started hitting him as hard a possible it didn't seem to bother him. Not only had he endured worse beatings, but my strikes were getting weaker and weaker.

Running on sand is hard enough. Try it while bleeding, and starting to faint all the while being chased by someone who probably wants to kill you. Not fun. Darkness slithered into my vision, blotting everything out until I could see or feel no more. So dark, so, so dark; as I felt myself falling, I realized in order to see the light you must first see the dark.

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Carrion was interrupted from his reading by a knock on the door. He was in a decent enough mood. It was an especially dark night, he might just take a walk in the forest. His corpulent nightmares floated lazily around his collar. They had fed well that night on the night isle of Idjit….

"Enter," he said. Hopefully someone would have good news tonight. Letheo came in with something in his arms.

"I think I might've found something of interest to you," Letheo announced laying the bundle on the floor before the Dark Prince.

"I think you may be right," said Carrion looking at the girl's face. A cold smile spread across his grisly features, he had found his seamstress.


	3. The Task

_Darkness lives on the Midnight Isle,_

_To many a soul, it is their final hour,_

_Darkness breeds deep in our rotted souls,_

_To Darkness to trounce light is our goal._

As soon as I awoke I knew I was still on the Midnight Isle. The room I was in was dark; with a few windows that over looked the desolate plains. Smoke from the mines was visible in the horizon. Judging from my view, I was on the 5th or 6th floor of some sort of tower. To my left was a small dresser, closet, a door to the bathroom, and a sewing machine. To my right was a table with a few knick knacks, chair, and another dresser; not a lot to work with if you want to escape. I stood up from the bed I was sitting on. It was surprisingly comfortable with a mismatched colored comforter. Cautiously I rose from the bed and started exploring my new space. Even though I knew it would be locked, I tried turning the knob to the front door of my new room. But to no avail.

"Nice try," said a muffled voice on the other side of the door. It was Letheo. Uh-oh.

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_You now know why the caged bird sings,_

_Trapped inside her cage of words,_

_Unable to get out, unable to be heard,_

_But I long for you,_

_As you long for freedom,_

_Never, you can not escape from me_

"She's awake," said Letheo. He was standing in the study of his master, Christopher Carrion. Carrion continued to read his book on the torturing techniques of his predecessors. His nightmares swarmed contently in his collar, they had been glowing extra-bright that night. "Is she now?" asked the Dark Lord with mild interest, "Well, let's not be rude and keep our guest waiting." He finished his statement with a grisly smile that made Letheo almost feel sorry for the girl-almost. Letheo nodded in agreement. "Can I have my medicine now?" asked Letheo. His face and teeth were growing longer and longer. He figured Carrion would be in a good mood tonight. "Fine. Four drops for now," said Carrion, "I want to see what this girl can do," he finished as he took out a flask. Carrion deposited four drops into the boy's open mouth. The effect was instantaneous.

Letheo dropped to the floor writhing. Slowly, his scales changed from scale to skin, claws to nails, and fangs to teeth. Carrion watched with indifference. Finally, Letheo rose from his feet. "Boy," said Carrion, "I will meet you by the watchtower in 10 minuets. I have a task for our little seamstress. Bring plenty of fabric, my old cloak and my measurements. _Or else_." Letheo nodded apprehensively and ran out the door, eager to get his tasks done on time.

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_Every beat of my heart brings you closer,_

_Every beat of my heart brings you near,_

_With every beat of my heart,_

_I get closer to fear._

I was feeling more and more apprehensive to get out of here every passing moment. _Perhaps rinsing my face with some cold water might help_, I thought. I let the cold water run through my fingers as I reflected on the past few hours. Letting a tear slide down my cheek I pondered what would happen to me. Christopher Carrion was malicious, spiteful, and intelligent--not a good combination. Sighing I dried my face off and started looking around. I had looked the room over again and again but still I could find nothing to help my escape. Every time I finished searching, something within me would tell me to search again and again; anxiety probably. That alone can make someone go crazy. No, I must keep my mind. There's no way I'm going down as Marina, the Girl Who Went Crazy After Only Staying on Midnight for Only Like an Hour. Uh-uh. No way. Just as I was finally started to feel a little better was when the door opened.

I struggled for breath and my heart seemed to fail me. For standing in my room was Christopher Carrion. His presence alone was enough to scare someone for it alone seemed to freeze the air around him and instill it with a sinister aura. If that wasn't enough, he was well over 6 feet tall, 6' 6" I guessed; I'm only 5'3". The clothes he wore were both terrifying and beautiful. It must have taken an extremely diligent and talented seamstress to create them.

Letheo stood next to him, holding a large bundle of several different cloths, and adornments. Had I not seen the scaly-skin feet under all the fabric, I don't think I would have known who was behind it. My gaze traveled back to Carrion. Only this time when my eyes caught his, there was no curiosity on my part, only fear. Carrion jerked his head toward the table and Letheo deposited the fabrics, needles, and thread on it. Letheo looked different, more humanlike, I noticed; but Letheo's new appearance was of no concern to me. The Dark Lord was standing in my room, I took a deep breath _It might be my last_ I thought to myself. Hopefully, if he kills me he'll make it quick.

"You may be wondering why you're here," said Carrion. All I could do was nod. My back hit the wall, I didn't even know I had been moving toward it. "Well, I am in need of a new seamstress," he finished. My legs almost gave out on me, something that had never happened before. "What?" I asked. I had finally regained my speech. "You fear me. And for good reason. But see here, I am not hurting you am I?" said Carrion. _That's true_ I thought to myself but you could never be too sure. As if to prove his point he pulled up a chair and promptly sat on it. I could hardly believe what was happening, why wasn't I dead already? "What…do you want?" I asked. Carrion smiled his gruesome smile. My blood ran cold though my veins. Death personified and sitting right in front of me. "What do I want? You are, as of right now _my_ seamstress. You are to make me what I want when I want. For your first task, I would like you to patch up my old cloak; it got ruined during a battle. I expect it to be _absolutely perfect, _understand? And, because you are now working for me on Midnight, I expect you to dress the part agreed? And I assume you have a name?" he said. I looked down. My dress had become dirty and bloody over the last few hours. "Yes, and it's Marina," I mumbled. I didn't know what to think. Should I feel happy because I'm going to live? Or should I feel sad because I'm now working for Christopher Carrion and I probably wouldn't get to see my family--ever. The sadness was setting in--fast. "That's 'yes _Lord'_ might I remind you. This is your home and because so, you are now faithful to me whether you like it or not," he finished. I just stared at him and nodded. "Yes my Lord," I whispered hoarsely. Carrion swiftly stood up and left, Letheo at his heels.

When I came to choosing sides, day or night, I never had an answer. I suppose now I didn't have a choice. The first thing I did, after they left and I heard the locks click was throw myself onto my bed and had myself a good cry. Those were probably the longest and scariest 2-4 minuets of my life. Even in such a brief period of time, Carrion scared the stuffing out of me. _What is happening to me_? I wondered. I mean, I've always loved to sew and make things, but _this_? Please! Taking deep breaths I tried to get a hold on the situation.

_Okay, _I thought _you've got to fix up Carrion—Lord Carrion's old cloak thing. How hard could it be?_ I wiped the remaining tears out of my eyes and took a look at Carrion's old cloak. I practically started to cry again.

It was tattered and torn beyond repair. Holes the sizes of my fingers were torn throughout the fabric and it was faded. _There has to be some way to pull this off_. I sat down on my little chair and thought and thought and thought. Finally, an idea hit me. The holes in the fabric could act as the open, twisted mouths of the condemned. They would merge and twist together in a repulsive and vile mass, each mouth releasing a silent scream, the very image sent shivers down my spine. I released a morbid side of me I never knew I really had. Grabbing the fabrics and setting the cloak on a hanger so I could get a better look at it. I was getting some pretty good and horrific ideas now. But, I had to remember, I couldn't go overboard. If I did, it might result in a costly mistake that I would have to repay with my life or sanity; whichever comes first. Positioning the light overhead, I started to work. Who knows when Carrion would come back. But when he does, his cloak will be ready. And so will I.


	4. Of Grandmothers, Monsters, and Suitcases

_If only, if only, I sing and I cry,_

_If I were as free as the birds in the sky,_

_But the guards wait so close,_

_They're cruel and malicious,_

_So I cry to myself,_

_If only, If only _

I had been working like a madwoman trying to repair Carrion's old cloak. Finally, I set it aside satisfied he might not hate it. My fingers were red and sore, my back and neck were also sore from the continuous sewing and hunching over my little machine. Despite the situation, I felt rather proud of myself. After all, it's not easy repairing an old cloak with massive holes in it and create an outfit for yourself just stopping for food breaks and short naps. I looked at my work once again.

The cloak was truly startling. Twisting the fabric gave the appearance of small mouths screaming, but only if you got close enough. I shuddered. The mouths screamed and twisted as if trying to escape the very fabric to which they were bound. Even before I patched it up, Carrion's old grayish black cloak had a dark aura around it. Now, even looking at it gave me the creeps; I could barely sleep. I had not even been on the Midnight Isle that long and it was already starting to change me and not a good change either. As for my garment, it was a simple black dress with a corset-like top part. It was enough to blend in, but also enough to get looked at but on this island who knows if getting looks is a good thing. I closed my eyes, today was the first time in a long time when I could get a full sleep and not have to worry about Carrion barging in and asking for his cloak.

A knock awakened me from my peaceful slumber. I got up from where I was sleeping to answer the door but before I could reach it, it opened. Carrion was standing in the doorframe, Letheo by his side as usual. Instantly, I was fully awake. Even though I had seen him twice before, my heart still beat out of control in my chest, nervous of what might happed. Cold shivers rocketed down my spine. "My Lord," I said and inclined my head showing the utmost respect. He looked at me with his cold eyes. "Is my cloak complete?" he asked. "Yes, of course my lord," I answered. Carrion's eyes traveled about my room as he entered and walked past me. As I turned to grab his coat I could feel him looking at me. Taking the cloak off its hanger, I presented it to him. "Ta-dah…" I mumbled and forced a weak smile on my lips. He studied it for a moment before motioning for Letheo to take it. A thin smile crossed his lips. "Very good Marina. I shall have more tasks for you in the future. You may walk about freely in this tower _only_. I have spies who will not hesitate to report back to me if you do otherwise," he said. I made a pumping action with my arm,

"Yes, well, I'm glad you like it," I said back with a brilliant smile. I could barely contain myself. This might be my chance to escape! I passed Carrion's sewing _and_ I could leave my cramped room! He gave me one last look and left. There was something unsettling about the way he looked at me however.

After he left and I heard the footsteps retreat, I whooped and jumped up and down. My joy was short lived. I soon realized that I might be here _the rest of my life_. I had to escape. But if only there was a way to escape, not get caught and continue to lead a normal life. I closed my eyes and sighed. "If only, if only…"

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_Skeleton baby, oh Sketleton baby_

_Dancing among the dead_

_Skeleton baby, oh Sketleton baby_

_On the dead's mounds you do tread_

_You scream with the Ravens_

_And Dance with the Dead_

_Oh my Skeleton baby, Sketleton baby_

_You fill me with dread_

Carrion was in his study. His cold grey eyes scanned the horizon outside his window overlooking the mines and shoreline his nightmares swirled and slithered in their master's collar; each one whispering a deadly lullaby. A knock interrupted his train of thought. "Enter," he said. A short scaly blue creature entered the room. It quickly bowed but tripped forward clumsily.

"I come to you but as a loyal servant," said the creature.

"Save your breath," Carrion interrupted, "What do you want, Isbet?" Looking slightly taken aback Isbet nodded, took a deep breath and said,

"You grandmother is here to see you." Carrion's mood instantly darkened. The air around him cracked and the entire room got cold.

"I recommended you leave now," said the Prince coldly, frost slithered up his collar and his nightmares cracked and writhed as if in excruciating pain. Isbet scurried out of the room far faster that one would have though possible.

The Twelfth tower was in complete pandemonium. Mater Motely was waiting outside the door for her grandson. Stitchings and other creatures who called themselves "loyal" to the Prince were suddenly no where to be found; all but a few ran away to hiding while Carrion's gruesome grandmother was in their midst. Looking around but seeing no one Carrion opened the gargantuan door.

Mater Motely was sitting atop giant severed hand, sewing. Messy stitches poked out from where the wrist was, black fingernails dug into the ground as the pale bony fingers they were attached to supported the throne Motley was sitting atop. Ghastly guards surrounded her as well as her sisterhood of seamstress. Her dress was made of the skins of her victims and those who tried to oppose her and failed. "About time," she said abruptly. The air around her seemed to drip the venom of her words. Her eyes were like Carrion's, cold and grey. Motely's eyes knew no such thing as mercy or love, but rather of hate and deceit. Many thought Carrion was the most terrifying being in Abarat; they obviously didn't meet his grandmother. She had committed every kind of –side there is,: homoside, matricide, patricide, infanticide, its even rumored that she killed herself and brought herself back using dark magic. "I did not mean to keep you waiting," said the Prince. "Stop you lying. There is something I need to discuss with you," she said. The severed hand on which she sat rotated and started toward the forest cracking as the fingers made their way toward the forest, Christopher at its side.

Grandmother and grandson were walking in the dark forest discussing plans for the triumph of night. "You have a new seamstress," she stated. "Yes, I do. But what does it matter to you?" inquired Carrion. Mater Motley looked up from her sewing briefly. "That cloak. Did she make it?" Carrion nodded looking strait ahead.

"Than she is quite talented; perhaps she will join my sisterhood of seamstresses." Mulled Motley aloud.

"I doubt it. She is too free spirited for your sisterhood," said Carrion.

"I can break a spirit in the blink of an eye. Don't tell me who or who not I can use," said Motley dangerously.

"_You_ gave to me a message stating that I could not do as I please. If I did, you would remove my seamstresses. _I choose to do as I please_. So it should be of _absolutely no concern_ to you if I find another seamstress," said Carrion, raising his voice slightly.

"You unappreciative boy. I saved you, but I might as well have let you burn for all you've done for me. You forget where your place is," said Mater Motely. The air around her steamed. And soon, she was gone.

Carrion continued to walk throughout the forest. Eyeless pale corpses swung from the trees above talking to one another. "Oh how my children sobbed as I got the ax!" said one. His voice was raspy and deep. "My children were the _reason_ I got the ax, I killed them!" replied another. Their ghostly laughs filled the dark midnight air. Their rotting stench was enough to bring a strong man to his knees in weakness. Ravens cawed followed the Prince as he continued to walk. His thoughts were interrupted by the clashing of blades. Peering though a gap in the trees he saw a sight that improved his mood ever so slightly.

Two heavily armored brothers were fighting. One was wearing a helmet with a blue feather; the other one was wearing a helmet with a red feather. Due to a little seed of deceit Carrion had planted, he was now seeing the results. One ducked as the other swung the sword close to his head. They fought on and on, calling each other the foulest of names. A woman, presumed to be their mother stepped in to the ring. "My sons! Stop! Stop!" she shouted and begged. The brother with the blue feather turned his head, it was all the time the other brother needed to pierce him in the heart. Caught in the heat of battle, the remaining brother slew his own mother as she threw herself on her sons carcass. Just as she rolled to the ground he fell to his knees. "What have I done?!?" he screamed to the heavens. Sobbing hysterically he fought a loosing battle with the ravens who were trying to grab a bite of the fresh meat. Carrion stepped out into the clearing. "He didn't really set fire to my house, did he?" asked the man. "No," said Carrion. "I did," he finished. The man screamed, picked up the sword and proceeded to stab himself. It had been a long since Carrion felt this good.

When he returned back from his walk, news of his new seamstress had spread like the fire that killed his siblings. Curious glances were sent his way as he made his way up back to his study.

Carrion was thinking. Perhaps this girl, Marina, could be useful. He mulled over the past few days. One thing was for sure, he had to keep a keen eye on his grandmother. The last thing the Dark Prince needed was for her to be controlling his every move. His sickly white nightmares swam lazily throughout his collar gently stroking his skin. Taking a breath Carrion rose and stood at his window. He could make out the outline of the Pyramids of Xuxux to his left and the dim line of Jibarish to his right. Perhaps this girl could be of more use than was presented. He closed his eyes and remembered it was her ship who he had ordered to run over just a few days earlier. Perhaps he could use her, that is, if Mater Motely didn't get to her first.

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_Sometimes when I see you,_

_I want to reach out and cry,_

_Sometimes when I see you,_

_I pray you'll be mine_

_Knock, knock, knock_ someone knocking on my door snapped me out of my dreamlike thoughts. "Come in," I called. I made sure I was extra close the lamp. This thing was heavy and could easily knock someone out. However, it was not Carrion or Letheo who entered my room, but rather a funny looking creature. Standing up, I pointed the lamp at it. "Who are you? What do you want?" I demanded. Sighing the creature stepped in my room and said, "Nobody says 'please' anymore do they?" he sighed. "Sorry," I replied.

"It's fine. I'm sorta used to it. The name's Isbet. I found this on the beach and I'm pretty sure it's yours it even says 'Property of Marina'," he said as he hauled a dripping suitcase in front of him. Isbet was about 4 ½ feet tall with blue scaly skin, yellow eyes with red irises, and a set of horns that could make a ram feel jealous. They curled over and over again over his pointed ears. A square snout with two small fangs that protruded and a black nose; a reptilian tail stuck out of his backside. He walked like a human, on two very large feet attached to two very short legs that were barely visible under a layer of pudginess. He had small arms also. Had Isbet not been so horribly scarred he would have been a very cute little thing but with the all scars he looked sort of frightening. I smiled, "Thank you!" Isbet seemed taken aback by my appreciation.

"Your…welcome?" he said. "What is it?" he asked.

"It's my suitcase! Ha! And Torlem said a waterproof suitcase was a waste of money," I relied. "You aren't the most terrifying creature on this island are you?" I asked.

"No," he said with a touch of remorse, "I'm a chef in the kitchen. I was on my break and found it as I was walking along the beach. Also, I wanted to get a look at you myself. People are saying your this and that," he said.

"Well, if there's anything reasonable I can do for you, just ask. That's not a guarantee though so don't try anything slick," I said. Isbet nodded and scurried out of my room.

While opening up my suitcase, I got an idea for my escape. This was going to be tricky but I was up for the challenge. But would someone find out? I doubt it because I'm always ready for someone. Question is, are they ready for me?


	5. Escape

_Freedom is here and its telling me,_

_I can be as free as the fish in the sea,_

_Because oh, how I long to swim away,_

_And go back to the time when all was ok._

I had just finished working on a garment for Carrion. Stretching my fingers and arms I decided to visit the kitchens for a snack. Opening the door I entered a dark stone hallway with little lighting. Twisted and wicked paintings covered the walls; I tried not to look at them. Finally, I made my way down to the main floor. Stitchings, monsters, and every gruesome thing in between could be found there. Sneering glances were sent my way. A particularly ugly and annoying stitching named Thim approached me. Thim was made up of different colored fabrics that seemed to be mismatched, smelly, and dirtied. He walked with a limp because about six inches of his left leg was severed and stitched up messily rancid mud oozing out every now and again. Dark beady eyes seemed out of proportion with his massive swollen head and small, sharp teeth. "Your attire seems hardly appropriate. Out to please the Lord?" he asked with a perverted sneer as he looked me up and down.

"Excuse me? Well, as a servant of the Lord, why don't _you_ go please him, after all, its kind of your job, right?" I replied as I walked past.

"Why don't you just answer my question?" he said with a smile on his face.

"Yeah? Why don't you go have an eating contest with a zethek?"

"Why don't you go dancing with a dragon?"

"Why don't you go burn in hell?" I turned my back and left. A stream of whooping and whistling followed me, a stream of laughing and booing followed him as he stood speechless. I had been free to walk in the 12th tower as I pleased for some time. However, as many times as I have seen its occupants, I still never got used to it.

Passing through the various hallways gave me a chilling and eerie feeling. One might expect the tower to be dripping with water and filled with rats, but I was actually quite nice. Stone arches with brilliant stone work supported the massive arched ceilings depicting many different forms of torture and gruesome images. Finally, after many wrong turns, I arrived in the kitchen. The chefs there always made fun of me because I was picky about what I ate. Anyone would be picky too if they saw what went on in those kitchens. So, instead of fried zethek wings or pickled dragons' tounge, I prefered fish and fruit. Isbet was leaving just as I entered. "Can I talk to you?" I asked him. After a moment of silence, he nodded his head.

As Isbet and I walked down the hallway I asked, "Is there anything I should avoid while my stay here?" Isbet rubbed his scarred snout before he replied.

"Yes, avoid the swamps, stitching, the acid pools and garden," he said abruptly.

"Thanks," I replied. We continued in silence as we made our way down the hallway. Suddenly, a figure stepped out to block our path, Thim. "What do you want?" I asked him. "I was laughed at thanks to you. No one humiliates me," he finished. As if to prove his point he revealed a long dagger. Three more stitching stepped out of the darkness smiling maliciously flexing and cracking their fingers. I felt myself start to panic a little. There was no way out and it was 4 to 2. I doubt Isbet was much of a fighter so the odds went down 4 to 1, not in my favor. It was Thim who made the first move. Running at me he slashed his dagger wildly madness and rage in his eyes. I could have laughed. This fool against me, a third degree black-belt? 1 down, 3 to go. I heard a yell behind me, one of the stitchlings had attacked Isbet - successfully. That was followed by a sicking squeltching sound as Isbet rammed and stabbed the stitchling with his horns, making its seams pop. By the time our little skirmish was over and done with Isbet didn't look like he was in the best shape. He had few wounds, but they were deep. "Please don't leave me…" he said as he lost consciousness and blood. "I won't," I replied. "I won't…." dragging him to my room, luckily we weren't far from it in the first place.

Isbet woke up about 10 minutes later in my room. I had patched him up and he should be good to go. "You didn't leave me…" he said, "Thank you," he said quietly as he finished examining his stitches.

"No problem," I replied, "Can I ask you for a small favor?"

"Sure."

"Tell me, does Lord Carrion plan on leaving this island anytime soon?"

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_Little bug, Little bug_

_How you disgust me,_

_Little bug, Little bug_

_How you make the girls cry_

_But no matter,_

_For I shall crush you like a fly_

Carrion stood neither at his window nor in his tower, but rather on a small vessel heading toward the Pyramids of Xuxux. The ship he was in didn't compare with the magnificence of the _Wormwood_ he had to blend in; and the little boat with a study black mast did just that. His sacbrood he bought from Pixler years ago were mature by now and readied to be riled up for the war that would shake the world. His gaze rested on the horizon of the black placid midnight sea. An occasion fish jumping would disrupt the nearly flat ocean. Out from the Isabella's smooth waves rose the Pyramids, tall and mighty. However, this wasn't a job he could handle alone; no he needed someone this time. That someone was Leeman Vol.

Vol loved insects. The burrowed in his flesh and laid their eggs in his skin. In fact, Vol had lost his nose to a spider; so he covered the hole with a fake leather nose instead. Leeman had an unusual talent; he could speak to not only bugs that roosted on his being, but with all insects. Not only does that set him apart from your every-day evil being, but also the fact that he had tree mouths. When he spoke, his voices were in unison and enough to make a man go insane. So it's no surprise that Vol isn't exactly Christopher Carrion's favorite person.

"Why is it you brought me with you to the Pyramids of Xuxux?" asked Vol, lice weaving in and out of his pores. He, Carrion, and Mendelson Shape were standing at the door of the largest pyramid. Carrion knew he just had to resist the urge to leave Vol there and let the Sacbrood eat him alive, no, he needed him now; he could dispose of Vol later. "Vol, I would like you to say hello to our friends, the sacbrood," said Carrion. Carrion knew he had to make this trip fast though. Hopefully, he could make it back to midnight as soon as possible. Within a few hours preferably…

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_If time is of the essence,_

_And essence of time,_

_Then it will be very soon,_

_When you, freedom, shall be mine_

I knew my window of time was quickly slipping away. After Isbet left, I hauled the body of a stitching into my room and rolled up my sleeves. _Time to do some dark magic_ I thought to myself. Glancing out the window I took a deep breath. It was now or never.

"Hey! Stop!" shouted my guard, Hycle. But I continued to run, straight for the swamps. Swatting the pallid flies from my face, I continued to run; the stitching hot on my heels. The sting of acid vapor met my lungs, almost there. If only I could make it to the acid pools. "Stop! The Lord will have my skin if anything happens to you!" begged the stitching, his breath now ragged. Heedless, I jumped into the pool. Bubbling red acid engulfed my body bubbling madly. Vapor rose up from the pool withering the leaves on the braches. Something floated to the surface. The guard stopped in his tracks. "The boss won't be happy about this…," mumbled to guard as he bend down and scooped up the remains, "not happy at all…"

Using dark magic, I temporarily transformed Thim's body into my own. The process was dangerous and took about an hour to perform but the results were worth while. Thim looked, like me but didn't speak like me so it was important that there was no talking. Using the juice from the yapa fruit mixed with vultures bones, I hypnotized him into what he was about to do; jump into the acid pool. Finally, I dressed him in the dress I was wearing that day and gave him explicit instuctions on what to do. I took a deep breath pointed at the door and barked, "Jerbe Balusla!" and the new me was off. I knew my plan had worked the moment I saw the guard chasing Thim into the forest. Off into the acid pool "I" go. Now was my chance to sneak on a boat while my guard was busy hunting "me" down.

The boat's gentle rocking soon put me to sleep. I looked lazily out of the window to see another boat on the horizon advancing toward the red haze of midnight. _That's probably Carrion_ I thought lazily to myself. Luckily, the sailors didn't know who I was, even with all the make up I had put on to disguise myself. For the first time in a long time I fell into a peaceful slumber.

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_On the midnight isle,_

_So far from the day,_

_On the midnight isle,_

_Please do come and stay,_

_We feast on your fear,_

_And will dance on your graves,_

_For here on midnight,_

_Pleasure becomes pain._

Carrion was sitting in his study yet again plotting his victory over Day. A knock interrupted his thoughts. A frown crossed his scarred lips, he had been receiving a lot of knocks recently, few of them were ever good news. "Enter," he said. A sad looking stitching entered; it had mismatched skin of dark green, brown, and colors that don't even have a name that seemed to sag. It was the guard, Hycle; who was especially intelligent for a stitching. Bowing before his lord he started to speak. His deep voice cracking with nervousness.

"I don't know how to say this…" started Hycle, "but Marina is dead." As if to prove his point he deposited the remains in front of him; bones and the tatters of a dress, shoes and clothes littered the floor.

Carrion first felt the rage build up from his core, growing and growing he felt his pupils dilate angrily. His rage screamed and tore its way within him. "I leave you for a few hours unsupervised and THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS?" roared Carrion advancing toward the stitching. "CAN'T YOU DO ANYTHING _RIGHT?_" he finished. The paintings on the walls shook. The grisly fleshless vultures at the top of his bookcases shook restlessly – eager for fresh meat; they sensed violence. Sparks flew around Carrion's head as he gripped the stitching's neck and threw it back toward the wall. Hycle's body arched as many of his ribs cracked from the impact. He squatted down and covered his head with one arm and held his ribs with the other breathing heavily. Carrion glared at him, soon Hycle was writhing on the ground smoldering slightly as mud oozed out of his seams.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" demanded Carrion. His voice was silky smooth but under that smoothness was danger. Hycle said nothing as he rose to his feet.

"I said SPEAK!" roared Carrion. Hycle nodded his head numbly. "Look at me," hissed Carrion. Hycle felt an invisible hand jerk his head up so his eyes met his masters.

"I-I-I'm sorry lord. But she jumped into the acid pool! I tried my best to saver her!" moaned Hycle trying to save himself.

"If you can't do anything right, what use to me are you?" murmured Carrion almost casually.

"I'm truly sorry! It won't happen again!" begged Hycle.

Gently, Carrion placed his hand in his collar and released his nightmares one by one. And one by one they slithered toward Hycle, their sickly sallow bodies slowly advancing toward their next victim slithering likes snakes stalking mice. They stopped and waited about a foot away form Hycle as if for their master's command. "No!" begged Hycle as he legs gave out from underneath him. As he slid down to the floor he covered his head. "No! Please! It won't happen again, I swear!" begged Hycle who was now reduced to a sobbing mess on the floor.

"No, of course not…you won't get the chance," remarked Carrion. He barked out a command in a foreign tongue and the nightmares pounced, eager to take their next victim. Hycle screamed, his body flailing wildly. The stitching shrieked and begged for mercy and just minutes later, it stopped. Hycle's figure went limp as the nightmares retreated from his body. His face frozen with fear, his glazed over eyes seeing some sort of terrifying fear; his mouth was opened and foam dripped down onto the cold stone floor. Carrion's gluttonous nightmares returned to their master having had their fill of fear. The vultures swooped down onto the figure on the ground, their pasty listless eyes gazing at the stitching hungrily. But Carrion wasn't paying attention to this; he was busy gathering the remains of his seamstress and arranging them in a pile with candles and potions. After all, he could speak to the dead.

And he found out astounded him, Carrion did not expect this. He let a thin smile cross his lips as he threw the remains away, "Clever girl," he said as he gazed out the window toward the sea. "Clever, clever girl."


	6. And so the Hunt Begins

_As I float along this velvet sea,_

_The voices of my loved ones call out to me,_

_They say to come closer and never go away,_

_Because, with them in their hearts, I will forever stay _

I was riding on a small boat toward my home isle of Spake. Green foliage rose out of the sapphire seas. Ocean birds cawed and called to one another. The soft breeze caressed my much paler skin. Sighing lazily, I let myself relax. After escaping from Midnight I set approximately 53 false leads just incase. Longing still tugged at my heart; I had to go back home to see if my friends and parents were ok. I closed my eyes as I lounged in the warm sun. A feeling of lightless and happiness enveloped me. The tanned crew with whom I shared the small boat for the time being pointed and shouted turning my head I saw a pleasant site. Spake was much, much closer, I had escaped Carrion-and lived to tell the tale.

After thanking the crewman quickly, and giving a generous tip I rushed home. Anxiousness gripped my entire body as I pushed thought the crowded city streets, hiding my face. _What if they didn't make it out of the sea? What if something happened?_ I thought. I banished the thoughts. My feet carried me home while my head was in the clouds. Before I knew it I was standing at my front door.

The house of which we lived was substantial. Due to smart investments and a few offshore accounts, we weren't exactly poor. The exterior was exotic reds, oranges and blues. Wrought Iron gates surrounded our estate as exotic birds pranced about proudly looking at me with mild curiosity. Dew droplets made our lawn gleam and sparkle. The gentle roaring of the ocean filled my ears as the salty scent filled my nose. Glancing up at the four stories that towered above me I stepped on our doormat. Looking up at our 10 foot tall doors, I never realized just how imposing they could be. Lifting up the gold knocker I knocked. Once, Twice, a third time. I heard screaming inside the house, horror gripped my heart what if they were hurt? Suddenly, the door was opened and Torlem, and Lizire tacked me onto the lawn, my parents following. Tears poured out of my out of my eyes, I was finally home.

"What happened?" asked Lizire, her blue eyes filled with anticipation. "Don't leave out _anything," _added Torlem combing though her messy brown hair. She and Torlem looked gaunt and stressed, but a new happiness filled their faces since my arrival. My parents sat silently by my side. I took a deep breath, and began my story.

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_Monsters monsters everywhere!_

_They're horrid and cruel_

_Mean and malicious_

_Monsters monsters everywhere!_

_They sing with the corpses_

_And will dance on your grave_

_Monsters monsters everywhere!_

Carrion sat silently in his office. He had been doing a lot of thinking recently. Whispers filled the tower with rumors and lies. Carrion was seen walking though the forest muttering to himself. Carrion had an important mission; one that involved hunting someone down. That someone was his seamstress, Marina. To Carrion's utter surprise she faked her own death and escaped off of the Midnight Isle. Not many people knew of the dark magic necessary to manipulate and change the appearance of the living. This girl was smart, perhaps dangerously so which was exactly why he needed her. A knock interrupted his grisly thoughts. "Enter," said Carrion. A tall and gangly monster entered. "You summoned me?" asked the creature averting his eyes so not as to look at his master. "Yes Ripslor. I have a _very_ important task for you," said Carrion as he rose to his feet. Signaling for Ripslor to follow him, Carrion let him into a room with a large screen.

The room was dark with the only source of light being a large screen with the image of a girl on it. The girl had a chocolate-brown skin tone, small ears with an oval face and a strong jaw. Her large brown eyes looked over her shoulder as a smug, small smile rested on her lips. "You shall find this girl. Her name is Marina. Of what island is her home, I can not be sure of. Find her and bring her to me—_alive_," commanded Carrion. The monster nodded and asked in a deep growling voice, "Is that all my lord?" Carrion nodded curtly and turned his back to Ripslor. As Ripslor closed the door behind him Carrion took off his medal glove and touched the screen. "Why do you run from me? I won't hurt you, I promise," the Dark Prince murmured surrounded by darkness.

Ripslor was at the docks questioning the sailors. Riplsor had pale grey skin with long gangly limbs. His arms were un-proportionally long in comparison with his body with long thin fingers with long dirty claw-like nails on the ends. His large feet were scarred and mutilated. Riplsor's head was no less fearsome, it looked like a laboratory experiment gone wrong. A massive pulsing white-red growth was perched above his small squinted right eye. His left eye seemed like it was on the verge of popping out of his head, it was wide and round with red veins lacing throughout it. Stitch-like scars ran throughout his face and body. His gaunt and hollow cheekbones led to a row of long, sharp teeth on his bottom jaw; Ripslor's top jaw was lined with smaller but still as sharp teeth. After questioning various sailors, he started for his first destination.

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_Safety is a funny thing,_

_Sometimes it lets you ride on its golden wings,_

_But safety can also crash,_

_And be gone in an instant,_

_Be gone in a flash._

I had finished telling my story to my friends and family. They sat wide-eyed and speechless. "Oh Marina…"said my father in a daze. He shook his head and gave me another hug. Many tears had been shed in those first few days and weeks but now it was time to relax.

Sitting on the beach with Torlem, Lizire and some other friends we laughed, danced and partied. It was a splendid, green place, with trees that grew over all of the land. Above the tree tops stood a massive stage. Just as things started to seem like they were getting back to normal, Lizire asked a question, "Do you think he will figure it out?" I shrugged looking into her large green-blue eyes. "I don't know. It's pretty hard to find a dead person, don't you think?" Sun light streamed though the tree fronds. We laughed happily but there was a certain tension. Crabs scuttled across the sand as a hungry bird tried to take one into the sky.

Gazing out at the placid sea, I looked out at the sailboats passing by. The sounds of thumping dance music filled my ears as a party started behind where we were sitting. "Shall we dance?" asked Torlem. "But of course," I replied with a smile. After all what was the worst that could happen? Ripslor, that's what.

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_Why do you run away from me?_

_Because I've been looking for you quite a while,_

_Do you run because I'm so vile?_

_Or is it because I can torture the dead,_

_Or perhaps it's because the living I pursue,_

_We will soon find out,_

_When I find you _

52. That was the number of times Ripslor had searched Abarat head to toe. 15 times he had turned up to Carrion empty handed. 15 beatings and threats. Ripslor's mouth dribbled with anticipation. 53rd time is the charm right? His target was in view; it would take all of his will power not to rip her to shreds. _Alive_ said his master if only there was some sort of loophole. Wasting no time, he pounced. Screaming filled the dance floor as Ripslor pushed and shoved his way toward thought the crowd. He had her now. Or so he thought. Chasing Marina thought the thick forest; he was catching up to her quickly. _Wham _a tree bough caught Ripslor in the jaw sending him backwards. Growling, he got to his feet, only to find an angry adolescent Ulitle in his face. Unwittingly, he had stumbled into it's nest. Ulitles were giant and fearsome birds. When it's mating season for these birds, the last place you want to stumble is one of these birds nests. It is said when they attack they can be more powerful than a small dragon; luckily they are rare if not rarer than any dragon.

Gawking into the blue and red eye that was shoulder height with him, Ripslor slowly drew his blade careful not to make any sudden movements. The massive bird regarded him angrily. It puffed its grey and red plumage and its scaly yellow feet with massive and wickedly curved claws scratched at the floor. Massive wings stood proudly on its shoulders. Looking down its sharp black beak it opened its mouth to reveal dozens of sharp teeth and attacked Ripslor.

I had been running for quite some time now. I had been discovered. Carrion knew I was still alive. Shuddering, I pushed aside the dense green foliage blocking my way. The only thing that kept me going was my imagination running wild thinking about what form of torture Carrion might inflict upon when or if I arrive back at Midnight. A blood curdling screech filled the air, I knew my Ulitle had been killed. Cursing, I continued to run onward twisting in complicated paths that were barely if anything trackable. If Ripslor could take down a Ulitle like that, imagine what he could do to a normal girl like me. I had to do some thinking--fast.

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_Waiting is a twisted game,_

_One that can drive a person insane,_

_A minute goes by that seems like an hour,_

_As waiting offers you its sour flower_

Twisting about the rings around his long fingers, Carrion let only the slightest of smiles cross his lips. Walking alone in the Midnight forest he had received some very good news. Red mist swirled around the treetops and ravens followed the Dark Prince at his heels cawing. The massive trees swung grimly as the wind howled by. Red moss twirled and danced in the howling wind. Lice and other creatures scurried out of his way as he made his way back to the tower. Ripslor had found the girl. Now it was only a matter of time before she was his again.


	7. Capture

_Hunting can be fun on a beautiful day,_

_Hunting can be fun,_

_Unless you're the prey_

"How much longer can we stay here?" asked Lizire. "I don't know….we should probably leave soon," I replied. Torlem, Lizire and I had been hiding on various islands for some time now. But it seemed like whenever we lost Ripslor, he found us yet again. Today we were on Nonce. Lush and green, it offered a little relaxation but not enough. I could barely sleep at night, and when I did, my dreams were troubled and fearful. Something moved in the bushes behind us. "C'mon. We better get going," said Torlem rubbing her eyes. Grudgingly Lizire and I followed her. We figured the more we moved the harder we would be to track down. After all, it's harder to hit a moving target than a stationary one.

We had since set many, many false leads behind us in hopes that it would throw Riplor off guard. We decided Babilonium would be our best bet because we would blend in there very well. The thing is, so did Ripslor

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_The Hunt!_

_The Hunt!_

_Yes I've almost got you,_

_The Hunt!_

_The Hunt!_

_It won't be long now,_

_Until I've got you,_

_And you're under the ground_

Ripslor had been on Marina's trail for some time now. He would have had her back in Midnight by now if she hadn't managed to avoid him when he thought he finally had her. Ripslor had been using one of Carrion's massive birds of prey as a way for transportation. Arriving on the lush green island of Nonce, he started for a trail he knew too well. Ripslor finally arrived at what looked like a temporary camp- now abandoned. Growling he swiped at a nearby bush, cutting it into pieces. He felt his blood boil within him. He had gotten so close to this girls capture and she slipped through his fingers like water. But she can't run forever, Ripslor knew this, and so did the girl he was chasing. Standing up right, he started for the nearest ship port. After question various sailors, he decided Babilonium would be his best bet.

Pushing his way through the crowds was not necessary for Ripslor; people just backed out of his way. Gazing around him, he was enveloped in a sea of tents, and thousands of people. Colorful tents were all around him as the merchants cried out for the people to buy their goods. "Leather boots here! Only made of the finest dragon leather!" cried one. "Get you Bablionium souvenirs here! Sacbrood shaped candies! The finest in Abarat!" yelled another. "Hey you! With the growth!" shouted a small purple bat-like creature. Irritated Ripslor turned around "What?" he snapped. Looking slightly taken aback the merchant continued. "I've got some medicine that will heal those scars like that!" and as if to prove his point, he snapped his fingers. After making a rude finger gesture to the merchant, Ripslor continued on his way. A cold breeze drifted through the crowded streets. This didn't bother Ripslor one bit, but as the people in the streets hunched over to try and avoid the harsh wind, Ripslor could've sworn he saw his target enter a tent. Roughly shoving his way though the crowd, Ripslor advanced toward the tent.

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_My freaks, my freaks,_

_Don't you just love me?_

_My freaks, my freaks_

_How I love your weird physique,_

_You scream for your freedom,_

_And dance for my money,_

_My freaks, my freaks,_

_Your lives will never be sunny_

We had just run into one of the Freaks tents. Judging by how dark and smelly it was, we were in the holding/storage area. "Do you think he saw us?" whispered Torlem though the darkness. "I hope not," I replied swatting the air around my nose. "We should keep moving," Lizire finished. "Yeah, let's go," said Torlem. As we advanced our way though the darkness, we heard a soft voice cry out. "Don't leave us here…" A pasty green slug like creature with 8 legs was looking at us with round, red eyes. "Yes, don't leave us!" whimpered what looked like a needle fish with a dogs head. Soon all around us a chorus of "Don't leave us" erupted. Frantically looking around we knew we had to do something. "We have to do something," said Lizire, her eyes brimming with tears. "I know, I know, but what?" I replied.

"Free them!" Lizire's reply caused the ranting to become even louder.

"I will if I can, but they're starting to make to much noise someone might-"

"Know your back here?" said a gravelly voice from the back. Startled I turned around, relieved, it wasn't Ripslor. The old woman was holding a single key in her knotty and grey hand. Veins pulsed though out the hand as she jangled the key. "Are you trying to free my freaks?" she asked. Her black eyes seemed to pierce the air itself and inject it with verbal venom. "No…ah, well…," Torlem started to stutter. I guess Lizire thought it was now or never because when the woman turned her head toward Torlem, she took a chain link rope and swung it at the lady. The key flew out of her hands and into one of the freaks' cages. Chirping with joy, the feathered monkey quickly set himself free and started on the others. "My freaks! My beauties! My money! Come back! Come back!" pleaded the old woman but to no avail, the freaks were quickly running or flying as fast a they could away from their cruel imprisoner. Torlem, Lizire and I started to slowly edge our way out of the tent. "You," hissed the old woman. Her head swung back like an owls so that her face was toward us but her body was still facing her precious run-away freaks. "You," she hissed again shaking with anger. The ratty and pungent dress she wore seemed to flow and move in a wind that wasn't really there. Sparks hissed and crackled around her head as her eyes rolled up into her head. "Run!" I shouted. And that's just what we did. We had just gotten out of the tent but an invisible hand seemed to grip us and drag us slowly backwards. "Oh no you don't…" jeered the woman. "Who are you?" Torlem demanded. The old woman seemed to find this amusing. Her laugh sounded like rusty nails against an old chalkboard. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up just at the sound of it. "My name? Oh, don't worry about it. But I guess you can call me your worst nightmare," she finished. Looking around, I tried to think of anything that could get us out of here. I hoped we could get away from her quickly. The invisible rope in which we were bound started to tighten and burn. "You think you're their worst nightmare? That's funny, I thought I was," growled a voice from the back.

Ripslor was standing in the back near the cages. In the dark lighting, he looked scarier than ever. The growth above his eye was pulsating madly and his fingertips twitched in a nervous fashion. My heart rate went out of control as I burst into a cold sweat. I knew a thing or two about magic. I just hoped it would be enough. The old woman pointed a bony finger at Ripslor as she opened her mouth to talk. Deciding that this was the best time, while she was distracted and her magic was at its weakest, I yelled an incantation that broke the rope that held us to her. Grabbing the fire crackers from a nearby shelf I quickly lit them over a candle and hurled them at Ripslor and the woman. These were no ordinary fire crackers, but fire crackers from Black Egg. They were used to inflict pain, and were illegal. A brilliant light illuminated the tent as my sisters and I made our way out.

Dodging our way though the crowd, we found safety behind a communicator stand. "Listen," I said, "We might get separated. We should at least have some way to communicate—just in case." Lizire nodded, too out of breath to agree. Torlem looked slightly unhappy but nodded her head nonetheless. Grabbing 3 overpriced communicator gadgets we continued our way toward the docks. We were on the wrong end of the island so we had to get moving fast.

The crowds were dense and difficult; taking a back route would be the better way we decided. Carefully tiptoeing our way though the dank back alleys we tried to make out way back to the docks. Progress was slow because there weren't any signs, just tents. At last, the docks were in sight. Right then and there a massive bird landed on the docks.

When it spread it wings, the scene of screaming faces and a war ravaged land filled out view. It's black substantial scaly legs supported its massive bulk; at the end of its feet brutally sharp claws the color of black polished onyx stuck out-ready for destruction. But one could not look at the scene on the wings, or the wickedly curved talons, but at the head. The birds skin was black; it had no feathers. The beak was also black but wickedly sharp and lined with dozens of razor sharp teeth. It's eyes where a crazed red as the pupils, green and cat-like, stared down at what were soon to be it's prey. It tilted it's head skywards and screeched. But no ordinary screech, glass broke and children screamed at the sound.

The crowed did no better than the children. People in a fearful frenzy pushed and shoved their way away from the bird. Cocking its head it reached down and tore apart its first 3 victims. I, too backed away. Suddenly, I heard my name being screamed. Helplessly I could only watch Lizire and Torlem being dragged by the crowd away from me, both in opposite directions. The frenzied crowd kept me from advancing as I tried to reach one of my sisters. Pushing my way back to the alleys, I tried my luck again. But my luck wasn't with me, instead, Ripslor was. "Hello," he said approaching slowly. "Goodbye," I replied as I turned to run. Turning my head behind me, I saw no one. Confused, I looked back were I was going and almost ran into Ripslor. "Does that ever work?" he asked. I was speechless, how did he do that? Grabbing a nearby rusty old pipe I prepared to swing at whatever came near me. Ripslor rushed forward toward me, knocked the pipe out of my hand, and covered my head with some sort of bag. A sickly sweet scent filled my nostrils as I distantly told myself to try not to breath. The next thing I know, I hear the gentle thumping of giant wings, the soft breeze in my face, and the gentle grip of massive talons holding me as we flew back toward Midnight.


	8. Back on the Midnight Isle

_Dreams Dreams,_

_Take me away,_

_Dreams oh Dreams,_

_Take me back to better days,_

_When my Dreams were fresh and bright_

_And all of life seemed alright_

I awoke on a small, comfortable bed. For a few moments, I thought the previous moments were all a bad dream. Soon, I would open my eyes and awake in my messy, bright room. Smiling, I opened my eyes not expecting the worse. The smile disappeared 5 times faster than it appeared. I was in the same room I had tried to escape from; same small window, same dresser, same small chair, dresser, sewing machine, same everything.

Frustrated salty tears slid down my cheeks as I cried in utter hopelessness. "I see you've awaken," came Ripslor's voice from behind my bed. He grabbed my hair and tugged my neck back; pain erupted though my body, "Carrion wanted you _alive _but not _unharmed,_" he purred in my ear. He had been hiding in the shadows. His smile evoked complete and utter rage on my part. Pushing me roughly to the floor, he stood there obviously wishing to cause me as much pain as possible. How could he stand there so brazenly knowing that he just took away the things I cherished dearly? A smug idea hit me. Suddenly, I got up and fell to the floor again, shaking uncontrollably. "Girl, stop that. If you hurt yourself, Carrion will have my skin," demanded Ripslor. As he bent down to pick me up, I grabbed my favorite cast-iron lamp and gave him a good slug in the head.

Howling, Ripslor backed into the wall. "Girl, you have just crossed the line," he growled. A smile tugged at my lips. He advanced toward me again, claw-like arms outstretched. Using my short height to my advantage I dodged him easily and taunted him all the way, "Hey Ripslor, I didn't know anyone could be uglier than you...," I started giving him another good bang in the head with the lamp. Pretending the think hard I finished, "Until I met _YOUR MOM!_" Ripslor started to shake with rage, a little frightened I started to back away little by little. Suddenly he lunged at me. A battle ensued.

A knock at the door interrupted our little battle as Isbet made his way into my room. "Ripslor? Uh, wow, ok then. Carrion would like to see you now," said Isbet. Ripslor nodded too out of breath to answer back. His chest heaved with massive and broken breaths as he limped his way out of my room. As soon as Ripslor left, Isbet started to laugh. It was such a funny and unusual noise, I started to laugh too. "Well I think it's clear who won _this _battle," he said.

"What can I say? Don't mess with me," I replied, unharmed.

"Looks like that lamp came in handy. I'm just glad you didn't bash me like you did Ripslor when we first met,"

"Do you not like him?"

"Not like him? Ha! I _hate_ him. He gave me approximately 60 of the scars I now have and has broken 47 of my bones just because he could," said Isbet sadly. We had become friends before I escaped. Suddenly, a thought hit me. My heart started to beat out of control as I fearfully asked Isbet a question. "Isbet. I need you to be honest. No sugar coating things. Is Carrion mad? Am I in trouble? What's going to happen?" A solemn Isbet replied. "I don't know Marina, I just don't know…" I started to cry. I felt my eyes sting with salty tears as I managed to choke out, "Why?" Giving me a comforting pat on the shoulder, Isbet hauled his blue scaly bulk off the floor where we were sitting. A second knock interrupted my gloomy and dismal thoughts. This time it was a stitching who entered. "The lord will see you now," it announced. Taking a deep breath, I climbed to my feet and followed the stitching to what was most defiantly going to be my doom.

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_Christopher Carrion,_

_Oh how the people scream and cry,_

_Oh how they fear your cold dead eyes,_

_Nightmares fill the day,_

_As the day succumbs to the night,_

_Christopher Carrion,_

_Oh how you fill me with fright!_

Sitting smugly at his desk, Christopher Carrion waited for the arrival of Ripslor. It had been long and frustrating, but at last, the girl was in his control. Grim ideas swam throughout the dark lord's mind as his nightmares swirled caressed his skin with their horrid lullabies. At last Ripslor entered, but not in the condition Carrion had expected.

Ripslore head was swelling up so much his grisly features were hardly recognizable. Dark bruises and welts covered most of his body as he limped tenderly toward his master. Taking a shallow breath and grimacing Ripslor said, "You summoned me master?" After a moment's wait, the Prince answered back. "Yes Ripslor…I did summon you. In what condition is the girl?" Rocking nervously back and forth on his heels Ripslor gave his hasty reply, "Unharmed."

"Unharmed?" said Carrion raising an eyebrow, "You mean to tell me that a girl like her, managed to beat you, Ripslor the Horrible? Well, I must tell you, this is new low even for you," finished Carrion as he rose from the desk. Flipping his wrist he summoned a stichling, "Go get the girl. But whatever you do, _don't let her get away_," he growled. Ripslor started to edge his way out of the room but stopped as he felt Carrion's invisible grip start to drag him back again. "_You're_ not going anywhere. I need to see this for myself," said Carrion. Ripslor dared not protest to his masters will.

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_Tell me why does the caged bird sing?_

_Is it because her dreams are confined?_

_Or is it because everything is unattainable, out of reach,_

_Tell me why does the caged bird sing?_

_Because she can not ascent to her heavens?_

_Or is it because she is stuck in her hell?_

_Tell me why does the caged bird sing?_

_Never mind, I know the answer _

_Because the caged bird is me._

My heart was in my throat as the large stitching carried me up the stairs. At first I kicked and protested, but it was to no avail. Now slumped over the stitching's shoulders I did everything in my power not to have a complete panic attack. Finally we arrived at the Dark Prince's door. I couldn't seem to catch my breath and started to break into a cold sweat. "No!" I shouted trying to tug my arm free of the stichling's iron grasp. He gave me a foul look, opened the door and pushed me inside. As I was falling, I heard a slight _click_ as the door locked behind me. All I could do was look at the cold stone floor, afraid to see who was standing on it on the other side. Taking a deep breath I looked up. There, leaning smugly on his desk, was Christopher Carrion. Suddenly, a peace fell over me. I knew that if he killed me that was it, right? There were two things in life that were certain, death and taxes- and I had evaded taxes long enough. Standing up right, I looked at the Prince. My brown eyes met his grey ones. It startled me at how deep and complex those grey eyes were. Cruelty sure, but behind that was pain, anger, and a deadly intelligence. I dropped my gaze and looked to the thing standing next to the Dark Prince, Ripslor. Despite the delicate situation, I couldn't help but have a small smile cross my lips. "Very good Ripslor, you may leave now," wasting no time, he made his way hastily out of one of Carrion's doors. "So, after all this time, you're finally mine again," said Carrion smoothly. Now Carrion wasn't a mindless killing machine. No, he was a sophisticated evil, pure evil nonetheless, but not like Ripslor. "You have caused me much agitation and have just about stretched my patience to its maximum…But," he said. "you are still in my control." Taking a deep breath I dared to ask, "What do you want with me?" The Prince stared at me with cold grey eyes, "I was hoping you could tell me."

"I'm just a normal girl, what could you possible even need me for?"

"Normal? Hardly. How many 'normal' people do you know who can perform advanced dark magic to manipulate the living? Or beat one of my best assistants close to a pulp?"

I thought for a moment. "But surely there are better magicians, like yourself. As for Ripslor, I have martial arts training and, let's face it, I'm smarter than he is," I said.

Slowly turning his head toward me he asked, "Well if your 'just a normal' girl what use are you to me? Why shouldn't I kill you here and now?" he said as a sinister smile crept up his thin lips. "You shouldn't kill me because maybe I am more than normal. Besides, you still don't have your seamstresses and I can sew anything. Besides, I think you need me – and you know it," I answered nervously. Taking a deep breath, I looked at the lord to see if he accepted my answer.

"Clever girl," he said. "Letheo!" he barked. Soon the scaly adolescent lizard-boy entered. Giving me a sour look, he turned to his master, ready for directions. "Take her to her room," ordered Carrion. Letheo nodded curtly grabbed me by the arm and practically dragged me toward my room.

When we entered I noticed a pile of cloth and directions on my sewing machine. After Letheo left I sat down on my bed and solemnly thought about what happened. Sure, I survived and no one got hurt (except Ripslor but he deserved it), but I _wasn't_ thankful even though I knew I should be. But of all the events, it was Carrion's words that I though of the most. Was I really 'normal'? I had a little training in the magic and arts, and did a ton of reading on the subjects, but did that really explain things? As a small girl, Torlem and Lizire would tease me because of my abilities-but soon stopped after I overran their room with lizards. After many tears and countless thoughts I decided work would be the best thing to keep my mind off of things. Looking at the clothes I got to work. A few hours later a bright idea hit me.

During all of this I forgot about the communicators, grabbing mine, I tried to call Torlem or Lizire. _Click_ nothing _Click_ nothing. Turning over, I realized it didn't come with batteries. In a fit of bitter frustration and anger I hurled the communicator at the wall; quickly regretting it as it fell to pieces. My only way of communication was destroyed and not for the first time recently, I felt alone. So, so alone.


End file.
